On the Sunny Side
by Cisselah
Summary: A late night attempt to break into eccentric Professor Longbottom's office takes an unexpected turn when two muggle boys are forced to hide behind a desk. "Oh God. He's involved in some super-secret government conspiracy, isn't he?"


**~*On the Sunny Side*~**

**by: Cisselah**

**(Beater 2)**

_**written for**__ Cearphilly Catapults** in **The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition_

_**Prompts: 2, 6 & 14**_

**_~*-.-*~_**

Every student loved Professor Longbottom, but there was no denying that their Professor was strange in many ways.

To begin with, he wore clothes in all fashions and all colors, as if he was a child that had thrown on whatever piece of cloth that had been closest without caring about his appearance or style. He had a habit of using invented curses such as 'Holy Hippogriffs' instead of 'Jesus Christ' or 'In Godric's Name' instead of 'In God's Name'. He wasn't very religious either, as proved when he stared at his student in a confusing manner when Elizabeth Courte tried to convince him to go to church, although he sometimes muttered strange things about dragons and Merlins and stuffed turkey's with wings (nobody dared to ask him to elaborate about that).

He also carried a strange lucky-charm twig with him wherever he went, all while protesting profusely when someone asked him if it was a religious thing (Because, as noted before, Professor Neville Longbottom was not religious and did not know why every Sunday his student Ms. Courte tried to convince him to sit down inside a church and listen to an old man spew out a bunch of quotes from a centuries old book).

Also, Professor Longbottom had a strange case of selective dementia, despite only being in his late thirties. For example, he seemed to find the most random trivia hard to answer and could not for the life of him remember a single one of the American presidents (but that could also be explained by mentioning that Longbottom was British).

Yes, Professor Longbottom was indeed strange in many ways.

He was also everybody's favorite Professor. Handsome, gentle and intelligent, Neville was the subject of many of his student's affections as well as the love interest of many girls that sat through his lessons with dreamy expressions and longing looks. With his summer blond hair, kind eyes, adorable dimples and tall, athletic body, he was the most handsome professor on campus (which wasn't that surprising considering most of the male Professor's where too old, too fat or too boring). He had a quick wit and a wonderful sense of sarcastic humor, and he was mischievous enough to start a swordfight with his students in the middle of class just to cheer them up from a particularly boring History lesson.

Everybody loved Professor Longbottom.

Everyone except for Professor Malfoy.

For some reason, Professor Malfoy (who was the most cold, cruel teacher anyone had ever had) loathed Professor Longbottom. He'd purposely walk into Professor Longbottom in the corridors, glare at him with burning grey eyes or spit out snarky comments that insulted Professor Longbottom in every way possible. He'd never say anything outright, but there was no denying that Professor Malfoy hated Professor Longbottom with every bone in his evil, aristocratic body.

Professor Malfoy was the exact opposite of Professor Longbottom. While Longbottom was gentle and kind and caring, Malfoy was cold and rude and sometimes almost sadistic in his actions. He'd assign his class tons of homework, uncaring to whether or not they had too little time or too little resources, and then he'd read them through and announce the faults out loud with a glee he could never achieve otherwise. While Longbottom always strived to help his students move forward in that gentle, stern way of his, Malfoy never failed to grab the opportunity to mock, ridicule or criticize his student to the point where they were barely able to hold back tears.

Malfoy would have been handsome - beautiful even - if not for the fact that the mere mention of his name made the student population quiver in the boots.

A brave young student had once daringly named them the Angel and the Demon, and even though he according to rumors had been summoned into Professor Malfoy's locked office to never return, the nickname had stuck.

Longbottom and Malfoy.

The Angel and the Demon (although nobody was stupid enough to call them that to their faces).

Which brings us to the most recent problem.

"Don't be such a baby" Alaric Richmond told his friend with a stern voice. "It's a rite of passage, you have to do it!"

"Yes, Philip, don't be such a baby" Elizabeth Courte said with a superior look. "It's not like you're going to die. Just get in there, take the goddamn stick and get out before Angel catches you! It's simple!"

Philip McLoy swallowed thickly. Four pairs of eyes stared him down as they waited for the thin boy to make his decision. Not that there was any decision to make. Philip had been in love with Elizabeth for two years (much like the rest of the male students on campus) and there was no way he was going to embarrass himself in front of _Elizabeth Courte. _Philip wasn't handsome an good at football like Alaric, rebellious and daring like Rev or scarily smart like John, whom was the living proof that blondes could be geniuses too. Philip was skinny and average in every way possible. He had hay-colored hair, not golden like Alaric or midnight black like Rev, and he had dull grey eyes that were so big they mostly made him look scared.

Actually, almost everything about Philip made Philip look scared, from the boyish features and the too-big eyes to his folded-in-towards-himself statue. He looked exactly the way a coward would look.

That was why he _needed_ to pass this test. He _needed _to prove to Elizabeth he wasn't a coward.

Maybe if he did, she would stop looking at him like he was a nasty bug she needed to squash.

"Okay," he said in a whisper. "I'll do it"

"About time," Rev muttered as he moodily blew out a cloud of smoke. "I was beginning to think we'd die of old age"

"Statistically speaking, your much more likely to die from lung cancer, especially considering the amount of cigarettes you smoke per day," John said in his matter-of-factly voice.

"Screw you, Stanford," Rev answered in a voice so sharp it made Philip whimper just a tiny, tiny bit (to his relief Elizabeth seemed too interested in her fingernails to notice). This statement was - of course - followed up by a rude hand gesture of the single-digit variety.

"Good luck," Alaric said, his eyes shining with a mix of concern, kindness and pride. "And don't get caught"

Right.

Don't get caught.

Roger that.

An hour later found Philip McLoy picking the lock to Longbottom's office window. He'd been at it for roughly fifty minutes or so, and even though he had learned from Rev - who could pick any lock, anywhere, with a speed that made it seem like he majored in Criminal Mastermind (Which he did not, Philip had checked) - Philip had always been a lousy student. Finally he got it right and with a push of his hands the window opened just enough for him to crawl through.

Professor Longbottom's office was nothing like he imagined.

For starters, it was far more organized than Philip could ever imagine. All objects were arranged perfectly, the room was tidy, the desk dustless and all books lined up in the bookcase in alphabetical order, where the first was 'According to Witches' and the last was 'Zealous Trolls of the 16th Century' (which by the way was the second thing that surprised Philip McLoy). Heck, even the pencils were lined up perfectly according to size.

Professor Longbottom's office - confused, eccentric, Who-is-Michael-Jackson Professor Longbottom - was tidy and military-neat.

Also, it was filled with plants.

Strange, multicolored, _moving, _plants.

"You okay down there?" The gruff voice startled Philip so badly he almost stumbled and fell flat on his nose. Looking back through the open window, Rev's hostile face stared down at him.

"They made me come and check on you," Rev grumbled childishly as he took a deep drag of his cigarette.

He blew out the smoke, closed his eyes as he tipped his head back briefly before he opened them again.

"I'm coming down," he said and before Philip could protest he stomped out his cigarette and slipped through the open window, cursing all the way until his feet hit the ground.

He took out a cigarette from a crumbled packet and lit it up.

"I can do this," Philip hissed. "I don't need any help!"

"Fine," Rev said.

"Good," Philip said.

They stood there silent for a while.

"Put the cigarette out," Philip finally said. "Or he'll notice the smoke and know we were here"

"Oh, shut up!" Rev growled. "Just start looking for that stick of his! I don't want to be standing here all night, okay?"

He turned his smoldering hellfire glare on Philip.

Philip shut up and started looking.

He had only until midnight before the deadline was up. If he hadn't found and retrieved Professor Longbottom's lucky-charm twig by then, he would never be accepted into the gang. He would miss his only chance.

Game Over.

The mere thought of that happening made his throat close up. Alaric had been his best friend since forever and had tried to talk Philip into joining his circle of friends since they first started college, but it was first now that Philip had dared to try. The rules of their circle was clear. Pass the rite of passage and you were in. If not... no chance at a do-over. This was his only shot, and that in itself was remarkable. Alaric's circle of brothers only allowed the best to join.

Which was why he had to pass.

"Give up," Rev said after a while. He was leaning against the wall, smoking his fourth cigarette with an expression that showed ´just how pathetic he thought Philip was.

"Shut up," Philip said as he frantically turned searched the drawers for the stick."There's still thirty minutes left"

Rev snorted.

"Just snap off some random twig from a tree and say it's his," Rev advised him as he took another long drag. "It's what _we_ all did"

Philip stopped searching. Slowly he turned around to face the darkhaired youth. His face was the kind of blank mask a man wore when he tried to quench all murderous impulses. He swallowed once, twice, three times. Then he opened his mouth.

Neither of them would ever know what it was that Philip McLoy would have said that night. The sound of a door opening and closing interrupted him before he had the chance to speak, but maybe that was for the best. Both Rev and Philip stopped to listen.

Footsteps and voices.

And they were getting closer.

There was a lot of cursing (mostly from Rev) and a lot of scrambling and trembling (mostly from Philip) as the two of them dived for the desk at the same time, squeezing in under the grand oak desk just before the door opened and Professor Neville Longbottom stepped inside.

He immediately headed for his desk.

Holding his breath, Philip glanced out from his place on the floor. He caught a brief glimpse of a pair of black boots and his professor, who was wearing robes and holding a plastic container in his hands, before Rev grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him back into the cover of the desk. The dark-haired boy gave the hay-colored one a killing look.

"Would you like some scrambled eggs and tomatoes?" Professor Longbottom asked Black-Boots with a pleasant British accent. "Hannah made them herself this morning. I think she's trying out a new recipe again"

"I prefer my eggs sunny side up," said a sharp, familiar voice with a very unpleasant British accent. "And we have larger things to concern ourselves with than your wife's recipe on scrambled eggs, Longbottom"

Underneath the oak desk, Rev and Philip exchanged wide-eyed looks.

What on God's green earth was the Demon and the Angel doing here at night? And why did Professor Malfoy sound almost..._ not evil_?

"Your loss," Longbottom said serenely. "But do try to relax sometime, Draco. All that worrying can't be good for your health"

"You don't tell me to relax!" Professor Malfoy sneered in that angry, cold voice of his. "There's a national crisis on its way so don't you bloody dare to tell me to relax!"

National crisis? What kind of national crisis? And how did Professor Malfoy of all people know about it?

_Oh God,_ Philip thought. _He's involved in some super-secret government conspiracy, isn't he?_

"I haven't traveled to America _- with muggle means nonetheless_ - to hunt down a pair of crazy witches just so I can _relax!" _Professor Malfoy continued. "I haven't spent the better part of six months teaching these rude little buggers just so I can _relax! _I don't want to relax! I want to find the bloody criminals and go home to my wife and bed and six-course dinners!"

Philip blinked.

What the heck was a muggle? And what was the old goat talking about? Professor Malfoy had been here for years, not six months. Philip had been in his class for two years, and while they were so scary he couldn't exactly remember much about them, he _knew_ that for sure. After all, there was no way to fake memories.

"Don't be such a brat!" Professor Longbottom said with a tiny touch of anger in his voice. "I know you don't like it here and I know you didn't want me for a partner, but this is a two-man job and we were the only ones Harry trusts enough to do this. Only Merlin knows why, because last time I checked, you fought for the evil megalomaniac that was trying to take over the world"

Next to Philip, Rev had started to swear quietly.

"Shut up, Longbottom!" Professor Malfoy hissed. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

"You can shut up, Malfoy! We're not at school anymore and the worst thing that can happen isn't McGonagall scolding us. We have a job to do, so pull your head out of your ass and help me stop the world from ending! Now take a deep breath and calm down, asshole!"

Philip barely had time to stop himself from choking to death on his own saliva.

This was the weirdest thing he had ever experienced. His two professors, whom hated each other's guts, were talking about undercover jobs and wizards and saving the world like it was some kind of TV-show or something. These kinds of things just didn't happen in real life. They just didn't.

Maybe his professors were spies.

Oh God, his professors were spies!

Oh God, wouldn't it be cool if they were spies?

Philip was working himself up to hysteria pretty quickly.

"Fine," Professor Malfoy finally said. "I'm calm now" and then he said;

"Why is your window open?"

Rev pressed his hands tightly against his forehead briefly, his cursing a soft whisper that Philip saw rather than saw. When he looked up again he gave Philip a look that said _'This-is-all-your-fault-and-I'm-gonna-make-a-rug-out-of-you-idiot'._

_Great_, Philip thought hysterically, _my super-spy teachers are going to find me and expel me. I'm never going to be able to explain this to Mom!_

"I'm smelling smoke," Longbottom said, his voice sharp and dangerous like a hunter sniffing out its prey.

There was a faint sound of footsteps and rustling clothes.

"There's a cigarette," Malfoy said in a voice that was gave Philip frostbites. "And it's still glowing. Actually, it's a miracle your rug didn't catch fire, Longbottom. _Homenum Revelio._" A pause. "There's two of them behind the desk"

Time to go.

Philip darted out from underneath the desk, Rev not far behind, and rushed towards the door with quick feet.

He didn't get far.

An invisible force hit him from behind and at once all his muscles stiffened and pulled in towards his skinny body, making him resemble a large stick. A large stick that was falling face first towards the floor…

Just before his nose could make intimate contact with Lady Floor, another invisible force haltered him inches above ground. Trapped inside his own body, Philip watched helplessly as he levitated into an upright position and turned towards his two professors.

"Merlin's pink knickers," Professor Longbottom said. "Mr. McLoy, is that you?"

Even if he could, Philip wouldn't have been able to answer. Not when the man that stood in front of him (was Professor Longbottom even his real name?) looked like he was in his early twenties instead of late thirties. Not when the man in front of him had a different nose and a different mouth and no dimples whatsoever. Not when the man-that-was-not-his-professor was pointing his lucky-charm stick at him and it was _glowing. _

His not-Professor's eyes were piercing, drilling themselves into Philip like he could read Philip's mind.

Behind Professor What's-His-Name, Rev hovered above ground. His mouth was shut tightly by the same invisible force that bound Philip, but his eyes angrily glaring at the Demon in front of him (Oh my God, what if Professors Malfoy and Longbottom really _were _demons?).

"Oh dear," Professor Longbottom said. "What do we do with them?"

"We don't have a choice," Professor Malfoy grunted. "We have to wipe them, Neville"

Longbottom sighed.

"I was afraid that was the case" He stared into Philips terrified eyes. "I'm terribly sorry about this Mr. McLoy," he said.

Philip tried to scream, he tried to move, but he was frozen, paralyzed in his terror.

Professor Longbottom gave him a sad smile.

"_Obliviate_"

~*-.-*~

On the edge of campus, parked underneath a big tree, three youths were waiting for midnight.

"Three minutes left," said the blonde in a matter-of-factly voice.

"The coward is never gonna make it," sneered the girl.

"Don't call him a coward," hissed the golden haired youth. "He's braver than you, Courte"

The girl snorted. "Sure," she said. "And that's why he still hasn't returned with his tiny little stick"

The golden-haired boy growled deep in his throat.

"I don't see why you're so upset," said the blonde with the matter-of-factly voice. "If you want to make an omelet you'll have to crack a few eggs"

The girl wrinkled her nose. "I hate eggs," she said.

The blonde boy sighed dreamily. "I love them," he said "And I…-"

He was interrupted by the sudden arrival of his friends.

"Hey!" Shouted one of them, a boy with midnight black hair and a cigarette in his hand. "We're back! Junior over here got Longbottom's stick and everything's cool"

The second boy, a skinny little thing with hay-colored hair, awkwardly held up a crooked twig with leaves on it.

"Congratulations!" The golden-haired boy said proudly. "Welcome to our quaint little circle"

"Oh my God," the girl muttered. "Please don't tell me he just said quaint"

"Can we just go home now?" Complained the boy with the cigarette. "I'm tired and hungover**"**

"You haven't drunken anything," the blonde pointed out dryly.

"Yet," the boy with the cigarette muttered.

"Good idea," said the blonde after a moment of thinking. "I have a sudden craving for eggs" he leaned forward conspiratorially as his friends started to move. "I prefer mine the sunny side up"

The skinny, awkward-looking boy frowned.

"What is it?" His golden-haired friend asked.

"I don't know," the awkward-looking boy answered. "I just had the weirdest feeling that I've forgotten something"

~*-.-*~

**The End.**


End file.
